Sweven

Detox
She arrives and cries, "Sister, help me." She is weary with the unlit way of her life. She declares, without stout dedication, to give living one more go. She needs to detox. I am no doctor. My mind screams no but my hand reaches out. Does she feel the slight tremors of my dread? She trudges to bed, stays still in the dark. It is the calm before her storm.

The Game
Extended family scattered cross a yard. Like chess pieces they move: Step pause. Step pause. Step pause. I stride normally through other oddities: Jagged fences. Maples in place of pines. Ditch evolved to river. Stone wall rises to the road. I climb. A mad cousin charges our chess locked kin. He stabs, one by one. No compassion wells for any of them. I am no savior... still I crush stabbers skull with a stone. Silence. Surviving chess pieces step pause their way to our cousin corpse.

Driven
Destination near found! He chauffeurs us around. Cars keep crossing lines. They speed then skid to shoulder. My heart could be wrong but it believes more safety abides on the roadside than on the road. But I am not released. Strap in. It is accepted, this driven destiny of mangled deformation and/or death.

Sots and Stars
Moonlight softens life's sharp edges, conceals the clutter of my soul. Night is sweet and safe. Then comes a knock. I swing wide the door. In stampedes slobbering beasts. They are my aunt and two cousins. They guzzle beer, boast drunkard deeds. I sit, un-submitting to their spirits. When finally they fumble their way away, I send no well wishes or waves. Starlight suddenly shakes my heart. Constellations are contorted. North star shines southerly. Sky is awry. How am I to right it?

So many missed opportunities for lucidity.
Upon re-reading these, I see now the tie that binds them: Some obnoxious sort of savior complex that has lost me control of my own life. From now on: Just. Say. No.
It's time to realign my north star.